The Mysteries of Udolpho

Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade!

Ah fields belov'd in vain!

Where once my careless childhood stray'd,

A stranger yet to pain!

I feel the gales, that from ye blow,

A momentary bliss bestow,

As waving fresh their gladsome wing,

My weary soul they seem to sooth.

GRAY

On the following morning, Emily left Tholouse at an early hour, and

reached La Vallee about sun-set. With the melancholy she experienced on

the review of a place which had been the residence of her parents, and

the scene of her earliest delight, was mingled, after the first shock

had subsided, a tender and undescribable pleasure. For time had so far

blunted the acuteness of her grief, that she now courted every scene,

that awakened the memory of her friends; in every room, where she had

been accustomed to see them, they almost seemed to live again; and

she felt that La Vallee was still her happiest home. One of the first

apartments she visited, was that, which had been her father's

library, and here she seated herself in his arm-chair, and she

contemplated, with tempered resignation, the picture of past times.

Soon after her arrival, she was surprised by a visit from the venerable

M. Barreaux, who came impatiently to welcome the daughter of his late

respected neighbour, to her long-deserted home. Emily was comforted by

the presence of an old friend, and they passed an interesting hour in

conversing of former times, and in relating some of the circumstances,

that had occurred to each, since they parted.

The evening was so far advanced, when M. Barreaux left Emily, that she

could not visit the garden that night; but, on the following morning,

she traced its long-regretted scenes with fond impatience; and, as she

walked beneath the groves, which her father had planted, and where

she had so often sauntered in affectionate conversation with him, his

countenance, his smile, even the accents of his voice, returned

with exactness to her fancy, and her heart melted to the tender

recollections. This, too, was his favourite season of the year, at which they had often

together admired the rich and variegated tints of these woods and the

magical effect of autumnal lights upon the mountains; and now, the view

of these circumstances made memory eloquent. As she wandered pensively

on, she fancied the following address

TO AUTUMN

Sweet Autumn! how thy melancholy grace

Steals on my heart, as through these shades I wind!

Sooth'd by thy breathing sigh, I fondly trace

Each lonely image of the pensive mind!

Lov'd scenes, lov'd friends--long lost! around me rise,

And wake the melting thought, the tender tear!

That tear, that thought, which more than mirth I prize--

Sweet as the gradual tint, that paints thy year!

Thy farewel smile, with fond regret, I view,

Thy beaming lights, soft gliding o'er the woods;

Thy distant landscape, touch'd with yellow hue

While falls the lengthen'd gleam; thy winding floods,

Now veil'd in shade, save where the skiff's white sails

Swell to the breeze, and catch thy streaming ray.

But now, e'en now!--the partial vision fails,

And the wave smiles, as sweeps the cloud away!

Emblem of life!--Thus checquer'd is its plan,

Thus joy succeeds to grief--thus smiles the varied man!